


The Teacher, the Witches and the Secretary

by MissMoonshine



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Post Season 2, and a big hug, because Mary deserves a friend, fluff fluff fluff, i did a thing, not sure if this is to be taken serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 13:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18703708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoonshine/pseuds/MissMoonshine
Summary: Mary Wardwell comes back to life after being dead for almost six months. It's shocking and terrifying to not remember anything at all, but at least she's got a friend by her side.





	The Teacher, the Witches and the Secretary

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what made me write this. Or where it came from.  
> All I know is that Mary Wardwell deserves to have a friend - a real friend, and Mrs Meeks seemed like a good choice. From there it took it's own life...  
> Oh well. Whatever. Don't take this too serious, please!

People tended to underestimate Irma Meeks. She was, after all, little more than the meek, kind and easily scared secretary at Greendale's only high school.

And it was true, she was all those things. But she too had a story - only that no one ever thought to ask her about it.

 

Well.

 

No one but her best friend Mary.

 

When Irma had married John Meeks and moved to his hometown, Greendale, she had found it rather hard to make any friends at all. But when her Johnny died, she suddenly found herself in the dire need of a job - she  _ had  _ been trained as a secretary once and she  _ had  _ kept most of her husband's papers in order and there  _ was  _ a job opening for secretary at the High School.

 

It was during her first day as the principal's assistant that she met Mary Wardwell. They just….hit it off, as the students would say.

 

Two lost souls, all alone in the world, both of them shy and more timid than outgoing, always wary of any social gathering with a preference for books and a cup of tea or hot chocolate by the fireplace.

They also shared a love for history and magic and the occult though Irma never shared her friends fascination for horror. She had seen too much of it in reality.  

 

Other than her late husband, Mary was the only one who really knew Irma and Irma was the only one who really knew Mary. Later, Adam stepped into Mary's life and Irma was genuinely thrilled for her friend. And held her hand whenever he had to travel to a far-away country again, leaving her alone in Greendale.

 

When Adam asked Mary to marry him, the first thing she did after saying ‘yes’ was calling Irma to ask her to be the Maid of honour.

 

Yes, they were good friends. Breaks at school were spent together and often their weekends entailed hour-long conversations about nothing on the phone.

 

And then, one day, all of a sudden and without warning, it all changed.

  
  


* * *

 

 

Mary didn't answer her phone the entire weekend.

Irma worried.

Monday came and Irma was in school extra early to catch her and have word with her.

The woman she found in Mary Wardwell's office wasn't Mary.

 

Well. She had Mary's face and her body but her friend Mary would  _ never  _ even consider such a bold dress and she only ever wore her hair down at home or for date night with Adam. 

But, and there Irma was fairly certain, she wasn't really Mary. 

 

It wasn't just her looks. That she could get over, could explain with a makeover, done on a whim.

 

No, if anything, it was as if Mary had a personality makeover. 

She seemed like a whole different person. Didn't even recognise Irma, after years of friendship.

 

Irma had tried taking to her once and had been rebuked rather rudely, as it now seemed to be Mary's style.  So she didn't ask again, faded back into the shadows and did what most secretary's did so well: watch and gather information. 

 

It worked until just before Christmas, when Hawthorne disappeared - not that anyone missed him, he had always been an unpleasant man. But after Christmas Mary was the new principal and Irma couldn't say what exactly it was, but something in her demeanour had changed again. Even in her strange, still new, state she was far more pleasant to work for than Hawthorne had ever been.

 

And then Mary dropped the bomb. Just before Valentine's day. 

 

Adam came in and greeted Irma with a kiss on the cheek and a brotherly hug before she let him into Mary's new office. Only minutes later, he left with a startled look on his face and then Irma heard Mary call for her.

 

She asked who Adam was. She didn't remember her fiance.

 

She wasn't her Mary. 

 

Now, months after she first suspected it, Irma knew for certain. Something had happened that night at the cinema, something that had turned her friend into a stranger with little memory of her own life. Had she been in an accident? Hit her head? Or...or had there been other powers playing a part, powers that had to do with Greendale's bloody history?

 

Irma firmly held on to the first two options, silently praying to no god that it was not, in fact, the last one. 

 

For a while, things went almost back to normal with Adam being there - well, Mary still didn't treat her like her friend but she was less...sultry. 

 

And then it all changed again, all of a sudden Adam was gone; but hadn't they just set a date for the wedding? Irma was confused but Mary never cared to explain where he had disappeared to. Instead, she became the stranger once more, the woman Irma didn't recognise at all.

 

Until that day near the end of March when the air in Greendale was filled with heavy foreboding and then it all of a sudden dissipated.

The next thing Irma knew was that she got a call from Dr Cee's, asking her to please pick up Miss Wardwell who seemed to be a bit lost and had been asking for her.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


When Irma's eyes fell on the hunched figure by the bar, she knew immediately that this was her friend Mary once more. And Dr Cee had been right, she was disoriented, confused and close to tears when Irma wrapped her arm around her and led her to the car.

 

‘Do you want to go home or come with me?’ She asked gently and Mary's answer was so faint that she almost missed it when she whispered ‘home.’

 

The drive through the woods was silent until they reached the cottage. Mary had been staring out the window quietly the entire time but then she slowly turned towards her friend.

 

‘Is it spring, Irma?’ she wanted to know but her with her was so thin that it was clear that really, she already knew the answer but did not want it to be true. Irma gently squeezed her shoulder

 

‘It is, Mary. It's almost April.’

 

Mary's shoulders began to shake as she sunk down on the steps before her front door, tears running down her face as she she cried. For a moment, Irma was so startled that she didn't know what to do but eventually she pulled her friend up and maneuvered her inside and on the sofa where she sat, hugging a pillow while Irma prepared her some calming tea.

 

She had no idea how long Mary had been crying into her shoulder before she pulled back and wiped her eyes, no more tears left. 

 

‘Irma,’ she said, ‘I...I can't remember.’

 

‘You can't remember what?’

 

‘Anything. I can't remember anything.’

 

‘But Mary,’ Irma tried to sooth, ‘ you know who you are, who I am, where you live -’

 

‘No. I can't remember anything since  _ October. _ ’

 

‘Oh.’ Wide eyed, Irma stared at her friend who looked terribly afraid. And who could hold it against her? Her world was collapsing around her, no memory of the last six month? Six month where so much had happened? It must truly be terrifying. 

 

It dawned on Irma that perhaps it was the third explanation after all, that something supernatural had been messing with Mary. But this wasn't the time for such musings, she had to take care of her friend and later she could think about a solution.

  
  


‘It's going to be fine, Mary,’ she promised as reassuring as she could and squeezed her friend's arm. ‘You'll go to bed now and I'll stay here on the sofa and in the morning everything will be brighter. Come.’

 

Mary let herself be pulled up by Irma, let herself be tugged along into her bedroom. She didn't say anything else, simply sank onto the bed while Irma rummaged through her drawers in search for a nightgown. The one she finally handed her was far less conservative than anything Mary would have chosen herself but it was certainly more modest than the other ones.

 

While Mary was sleeping, Irma went about the Cottage, trying to find something, just anything, that could tell her what happened to her friend.

 

The fridge was empty. The cross atop the fireplace was upside-down. The carpet had faded, dark stains. There was dirt between the tiles in the bathroom, dirt that looked very suspicious. The air was pressing, heavy with the faint smell she had come to associate with not-Mary in the last few months.

 

It was as if a stranger had been living in the Cottage, a stranger who was Mary but wasn’t.

 

An unsettling feeling started to pool in the pit of Irma’s stomach as she checked all the drawers in the kitchen. There wasn’t much left to work with. A fresh pack of pasta, some jars of jam they made last summer, a tin of oats and raisins, some baking supplies.

 

Sighing deeply, Irma started to knead together the ingredients for simple bread. Mary was fast asleep in the bedroom, she could have easily left and gone back into town to pick up some things so there would be something to eat when Mary woke up, but something told her that it was better to stay. Besides, she needed to do something so she could think.

 

Working on auto-pilot, Irma let her thoughts drift through all the things she knew. Both the facts and the suspicions.

 

Something had happened on October 27th, something that had turned Mary into a different person. Something happened today that turned her back into herself.

 

But what had happened in between?

 

Sabrina Spellman had been a regular visitor to her office in the last months. What they had talked about, Irma did not know. She somehow didn’t believe that they had spoken about Sabrina’s studies. 

 

When Adam had been there, she had been a little more herself again but then he had disappeared, one day to the next. 

Just like Principal Hawthorn and that one football boy. No one knew what had happened to them either. 

 

The dreadful feeling that not-Mary might have had something to do with it began to settle in her stomach and Irma sighed deeply.

 

There was absolutely no way that what had happened to Mary had natural causes. If life and her husband had taught her one thing, it was that nothing was impossible, especially not in Greendale. It was why one never went into the woods at night. You could never know, what you would run into.

 

Certainly not only humans.

 

A high-pitched scream interrupted her thoughts and Irma found herself rushing into the bedroom, shaking Mary until she was awake, sobbing and crying and clinging to her as if her life depended on it.

 

Other than Irma’s calming whispers, no words were spoken and it took until dawn before Mary’s sobs subdueded and she fell back to sleep. Too tired to get up again, Irma couldn’t stop her own eyes from fluttering shut and before she realised it, she was drifting off to sleep herself.

 

She woke from again from the sun tickling her nose and sat up, for a moment confused by her surroundings. Then the thoughts of where she was came rushing back to her and she gently detangled herself from Mary, who was clutching her arm as tight as if it was lifeline. 

 

A splash of water in the face to wake up, bread in the oven, kettle on the stove.

 

By the time Mary came stumbling into the kitchen, wrapped into a long, dark red robe, buttoned up all the way to her chin, the bread was still warm but not hot anymore and the tea was ready to be savoured.

 

They sat in silence, both unsure how to start, or what to say even but finally, after eating almost half the loaf, Mary sat down her teacup and looked Irma square in the eye. Her own were still red rimmed from all the tears she had shed but there was a new determination in them that let Irma hope.

 

‘I don’t know what’s happening to me,’ she began. ‘But...I think….I think I was dead, Irma.’

 

It was such a terrible statement and had they not been living in Greendale, not been so familiar with the town’s history, not had her own history, she would have laughed. 

She didn’t.

Instead, she slowly nodded, looking into her own teacup for a moment.

 

‘Possible. You weren’t...you know, you.’

 

‘What...what do you mean?’ Now there was fear in Mary’s voice and Irma reached across the table to reassuringly squeeze her hand.

 

‘Well, you haven’t disappeared, these last few months. But you...you were very different. A very...sexy version of yourself, very...determined - and very rude as well.’

 

‘I don’t -’

 

‘I don’t think you were you. Do you know what I mean?’

 

Mary shook her head.

 

‘It was as if someone replaced you. And you think you were …’ Irma couldn’t make herself finish the sentence but Mary understood, squeezing her eyes shut at the thought.

 

‘I dreamed, you know? It was torture...so...terrible. The last thing I remember...I was on my way home and there was this girl. She must have been attacked and I brought her here….then...then she started asking about Sabrina. And then...she...she...the scissors…’

Her voice cracked, her hand flying up to her neck where the scissored had pierced the skin all those months ago. There was no scar, no sign of any harm, just pale white skin.

 

‘Last night...I...I dreamt that...there….there was so much blood, Irma, so much blood. Everywhere... blood on everything.’ She shook her head, eyes squeezed shut. ‘Blood on floors, blood on clothes, blood on chairs, blood on tiles, everywhere, everywhere! And I -’ her head snapped up, brown eyes fixed on Irma, ‘I held the knife. And then...then I ate.’

 

And suddenly the spell seemed broken, shaking her head to banish the images she buried her face in her arms and Irma felt absolutely helpless.

 

What was she to make of this confession? What did all this mean? First Mary ran into some girl on the street, a girl who then killed her. She did not remember anything of the past months but dreamt of having killed people. And now, despite claiming to be dead for half a year, Mary was sitting in her kitchen, distraught and confused but very much alive.

 

None of it was adding up.

It only would if you added one more factor: Magic.

 

_ Sabrina. _

The thought hit Irma unprepared and her eyes widened.

 

The girl who had killed Mary had asked for Sabrina. Sabrina Spellman, who had been involved in most of the odd ongoings in the last few months. Sabrina Spellman, who had grown close to not-Mary over that time. Sabrina Spellman, descendant of a family who she had read much about in her books about Greendale’s history.

Sabrina Spellman, who was very likely a witch.

 

She pushed back her chair, startling Mary who almost jumped up at the sound. Immediately regretting the abrupt movement, Irma reached for Mary to calm her again before gently warming her friend to her thoughts.

 

‘I’ll go home now and change and pick up some groceries for you and why don’t you go and have a nice hot bath, Mary? And when I come back, we’ll go and see the Spellmans and see if the can help you, mhm?’

 

‘Thank you, Irma.’

 

Squeezing Mary’s shoulders once more, Irma smiled and left her to her own devices.

 

 

* * *

  
  


Three hours later, the April sun was high up the sky and the car with the two women was pulling up the driveway to the Spellman Mortuary. It was even further out of town than Mary’s Cottage; unless someone had died, no one ever went there. Which probably was the point.

 

What was, however, more than surprising, was that there were several teenager sat on the front porch though as soon as they saw the car approaching, they disappeared inside.

By the time they actually stopped and got out of their seats, the porch was empty save the two Spellman sisters they both knew.

 

‘I’m sorry, but we’re closed at the moment,’ Hilda called and she sounded genuinely apologetic. Then she caught sight of who their visitors were and both she and her sister gaped, staring at Mary as if she was a ghost.

 

‘I assume you’re not here to make funeral arrangements,’ Zelda stated and both Irma and Mary shook their heads.

 

‘We’re here to talk.’

 

‘Well, you better come in then.’

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Mary clung to Irma’s hand as they climbed up the stairs and followed the sisters inside. There were more teenagers - some older ones too, perhaps in their twenties - but Hilda shoohed them out of the kitchen and in no time, it was just the four of them. Neither sister cared to explain why they seemed to be housing two dozen people or who they were, but Irma thought that perhaps it was better if they didn’t know.

 

‘You seem to know why we’re here,’ Irma stated and looked back and forth between the two Spellman women. They shared a look and Hilda left her sister to usher them to sit at the table while she herself bustled over to the stove to prepare some tea for them all.

 

‘You’re here because of her.’ Zelda nodded at Mary and lit herself a cigarette, leaning against the sink. Both Irma and Mary felt somewhat uncomfortable sitting there while she sisters were still standing and under the table, Mary grabbed her friend’s hand for reassurance.

Feeling that Mary was even more jittery and nervous than usual - which, considering the situation, was completely understandable - Irma decided to do the talking for now, so she tilted her head at Zelda.

 

‘We are. But...why did you…how would you know that? You know what’s wrong, then? What happened?’

 

Under the table, Mary’s fingernails broke through the skin of Irma’s palm in fear of the answer.

 

‘Isn’t the question,’ Zelda started, striding across the room, leaning down to look directly at them, ‘how you knew to come here for your answers?’

 

‘We -’

 

‘You’re witches,’ Mary whispered, eyes wider than ever and Irma stared at her in horror. But to her surprise, Zelda stepped back and took a deep breath from her cigarette.

 

‘Well,’ she said, ‘that makes things much easier.’

 

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

 

‘Tea?’ Both Irma and Mary nodded carefully at the question while Zelda rolled her eyes at her sister and impatiently watched as she poured a cup for everyone - only when she received a questioning glance from Hilda did a shadow fall across her face and she sharply shook her head.

 

‘Not for me.’

 

‘Why - oh. I see. Coffee, then?’

 

‘I’m not a child you need to mother, Hilda. Let’s get to the reason of this...visit.’ Mary and Irma shared a confused look, there was clearly more going on between the sisters, an entire conversation that had passed silently above their heads. But then again, that was none of their business and most certainly not the point of their visit here.

 

Sighing deeply, the two Spellman women sat down on the other side of the table, right across from Mary and Irma.

 

‘Why are you here, loves?’ Hilda asked with a kind smile. ‘What do you want to know?’

 

‘Do you know...do you know what happened to me since October?’ Mary asked, voice shaking once more.

 

‘Yes.’ A short, clipped answer in typical Zelda Spellman fashion, from what they both remembered of their previous interactions with the woman.

 

‘And...what happened? Did..did you...or Sabrina...did one of you have anything to do with it?’

 

‘No, love. None of us here had anything to do with...well, with what happened to you. It’s only Zelds and Sabrina and me who know anyway, and we only found out yesterday - and even that was only by chance…’ Hilda trailed off, apparently not quite sure how to continue but Irma frowned and turned to Mary. Her friend nodded slightly, silently saying ‘ask away’.

 

‘If you weren’t involved, were it other witches then? From your Coven?’ 

 

Zelda sighed deeply, lighting another cigarette.

 

‘No, no one from the Coven. Not a witch either...not really.’ She watched them curiously, eyebrows raised. ‘You are well versed in the aspects of our world.’

 

‘I’m the unofficial town-historian,’ Mary defended but Zelda kept her eyes fixed on Irma.

 

‘I’m from Salem,’ she said slowly and Zelda and Hilda seemed to know what she was implying immediately. Of course they’d know about the political situation there - she still continued. ‘Three Covens fighting about the town...every old family has alliances with one for protection. Mine did, too.’

 

This time, the squeeze Mary gave her hand was reassuring and comforting and she was glad that the two witches across the table seemed to understand the underlying meaning of her words.

 

A family tied to a Coven for protection. Another Coven taking over power, the Coven unable to fulfill their promise. Family after family killed, slowly with blood curses and fast with direct attacks. Families paying Covens to take their children to safety - by now, the situation had calmed, one Coven had been completely obliterated, the numbers of the other two were dwindling as more and more witches left, looking for more peaceful Covens to settle down.

That Irma had ended up in Greendale of all places had, after that, been pure irony. 

 

‘Oh, well. That’s just wonderful, then we don’t have to explain all lore to you. And we know why you knew were to come...now, what did you want again?’

 

‘I...I...the last thing I remember...it’s the week before Halloween. After that...nothing - only some truly….horrifying-,’ Mary swallowed thickly and squeezed her eyes shut as if she was trying to get rid of the pictures, ‘some really horrible images - blood, blood, everywhere. I...I don’t remember what I did or where it’s from and I thought I was dead but then why would there be so much blood? It was EVERYWHERE and I couldn’t -’ 

 

Suddenly, Zelda Spellman’s hands were on Mary’s shoulders and her lips were moving silently and then Mary calmed down. She was still shaking and buried her face in Irma’s shoulder, but her breathing wasn’t frantic anymore and she seemed a lot less agitated then just seconds before.

 

Across the table, she saw Hilda gently squeezing her sister’s arm while the other woman closed her eyes for a moment as if she had to ground herself before she could come back to them mentally.

 

When she snapped back, her eyes fixed on Mary and Irma, her voice was much gentler than before.

 

‘Miss Wardwell -’

 

‘Mary.’

 

‘Mary, then. I’m very sorry for what happened to you and I’m sorry that we will likely not have answers to all your questions. We,’ she nodded at her sister, ‘can tell you what we know but it may very well not be what you want to hear.’

 

‘Just...just tell me. Please.’

 

‘Very well.’ Zelda leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath. It seemed an unspoken agreement between the sisters that she would be the one to deliver whatever they knew as Hilda didn’t attempt to speak up.

 

‘That night, the last one you remember, you were killed.’

 

Mary took a sharp, shuddering breath but didn’t say anything so after a moment, Zelda continued.

 

‘After that, your body was pos- under the control of...a demon. Or a witch. A goddess, we’re still not quite sure on that front, aren’t we, Hilda?’

 

‘Nope.’

 

‘Either way, she...she...controlled your body and manipulated my niece to fulfill a prophecy that was meant to bring about the apocalypse,’ Zelda rushed out, as if the mere thought of it was too much for her to bear.

 

Irma found herself holding her friend tightly as she let the words sink in. In a way, she wasn’t really surprised by this revelation. The last part, with the apocalypse, yes, but that Mary had really been possessed - sort of possessed, at least? Because the Spellmans didn’t seem to be quite clear on that either. But that wasn’t a surprise, not after the way Mary - not-Mary - had behaved and changed since Halloween. Another question popped into her mind and she turned back to the sisters.

 

Something about this conversation seemed to upset stoic Zelda tremendously, if the way her sister was lacing her fingers through hers in a clearly calming manner was any indication. But that was none of her business, Irma decided and thought about how to best put her question without letting on to Mary that she knew something she didn’t.

 

‘What about Adam?’ she finally asked directly. Three pairs of eyes stared at her in shock and it was Hilda who spoke first, voice strained.

 

‘Adam?’ she wanted to know but before Irma could answer, Mary did.

 

‘My fiancee,’ she whispered. Zelda sunk back in chair, hand on her forehead, face unreadable.

 

‘Your fiance is called  _ Adam _ ?’ 

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘Oh dear. I’m not sure how well Lilith reacted to that…’ Hilda mumbled and turned to say something else to her sister but both Mary and Irma had heard the name she had mentioned.

 

Lilith. 

 

‘I...I was possessed by  _ Lilith _ ?’ Mary asked, eyes wider than it should be possible and with a look of absolute terror in them.

 

They had been raised good, catholic girls. They knew about Lilith. They also knew the witch version of the story and it did not make things better.

 

‘Yes, love, Lilith did that - but she had to do it, dear, because the Dark Lord forced her to and if she had not listened to him, he would have killed her,’ Hilda hurried to explain but unfortunately, it didn’t help.

 

‘So my death was fine but hers wasn’t?’

 

‘Lilith is not a mortal like you, not even a witch like we are. Do you really expect her to follow your mortal morals?’ At Zelda’s harsh words, Mary gasped and Irma gaped but they both knew that she was right.

 

Tears shot into Mary’s eyes and she buried her face in her arms once more, silently crying - she didn’t even care that she was making a fool of herself in front of the Spellman sisters, it was all too much.

 

Her body had been taken over by someone - something else and she had no idea what had happened to it in the last six months and -

 

‘It’s a blessing.’ Her head shot up to find the kitchen empty safe for Zelda who had abandoned her chair across the table to sit at the other end of the bench, next to Mary. There was something strange in her voice but Mary couldn’t say what exactly it was. 

Tentatively, Zelda reached over to take her hand.

 

‘I am aware that you don’t know me - nor do I know you - but you have to believe me in one matter: It is a blessing not to remember what happened to your body...when you...when it wasn’t under your control.’ Zelda shuddered.

 

‘But -’

 

‘Trust me. You don’t want to remember.’

 

‘Do you...do you know what happened to me, then?’ The most logical explanation, wasn’t it? But Zelda just closed her eyes, shook her head.

 

‘No. But whatever she did...be glad that you don’t remember. You don’t want to remember.’ 

 

‘It happened to you, too.’ A bold statement. Mary wasn’t even sure where it came from but the way Zelda’s eyes snapped open, a haunted look in them was enough of an answer. ‘I’m sorry.’

 

‘Don’t be. It was my own fault. And I...I remember every second of it. So believe me,’ she said once more, ‘you do not want to remember.’

 

‘I -’

 

‘Have your friend tell you what happened in your...absence. But don’t try to get the memories back. They would break you.’

 

Before Mary could answer, or say anything, really, Zelda had strode out of the room and only seconds later, Irma came back in with a questioning look on her face. But she didn’t ask what the older Spellman sister had said, instead helped her get up - Mary was still rather shaky - and led her back into the front hall.

 

The sisters were waiting there for them, Zelda’s expression unreadable once more, Hilda with a warm smile. She handed Irma a little bottle.

 

‘Three drops in her tea before sleep and there won’t be any nightmares. I’ll have Sabrina drop off a dreamcatcher for you as well in a few days and you’ll be right in no time, you’ll see, dear.’ Still smiling, she padded Mary’s hand before she followed them and her sister outside.

 

They stood at the front porch, watching as the friends made their way back to the car and Hilda waved after them until they turned the corner and the mortuary disappeared behind the trees.

 

‘I...thank you, Irma,’ Mary said after a moment and Irma glanced at her.

 

‘Of course, Mary. Whatever you need.’

 

‘After all this?’, she gave a dry, shaky laugh. ‘After this I...I just need my best friend.’

 

‘I’m here. And I promise I won’t go anywhere.’

 

‘Good.’

 

And it would be. It would be bumpy and hard and slow, take a long time before things would even be remotely normal again.

 

But Mary knew that she could do it. Even knew that Zelda could get through whatever had happened to her. Her sister, she would make sure of that.

 

And she might not have sister by her side.

 

But she had her best friend.

 

And that, Mary thought, would be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry? xD
> 
> Irma was picked by me because Mrs Meeks' first name wasn't mentioned anywhere.


End file.
